


Midnight Watchman

by bashert



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Drugs, F/M, Mentions of Nina Howard, Mid-Season 2, au-ish, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-17
Updated: 2014-06-17
Packaged: 2018-02-05 01:59:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1801267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bashert/pseuds/bashert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mac doesn’t get high very often, but when she does, she doesn’t like to be alone. Will keeps an eye on her. </p><p>Set mid-season 2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight Watchman

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on the prompt courtesy of lilacmermaid25: Mac doesn’t get high very often, but when she does, she doesn’t like to be alone. Will keeps an eye on her. 
> 
> I'm not sure this is what you had in mind, but you know, this is what came into my brain. It's probably way more angsty than you had anticipated. I'm sorry about that. It's set mid season 2, during the time of Nina Howard (that whore). The title is from the song by James Jackson Toth.

It had been a very, _very_ long week.  

On top of the usual stress, they had been following a huge story that had taken up the majority of the week. They spent countless hours hunting down second, third sources, and just when they seemed on the edge of a breakthrough, the whole story had crumbled, putting everyone on edge. No one more so than Will, which meant everyone was keeping a wide berth. And _that_ meant that everyone was coming to Mac with all of their problems and letting her deal with Will in his surly mood.

By the end of Friday Mac was snapping at everyone right along with Will and the atmosphere in the newsroom was downright toxic. MacKenzie was hoping they could all just get through the broadcast and then she could get the fuck out of the office for the weekend, hoping that the weekend would allow everyone to calm down a little.

By everyone, mostly she meant Will. She hoped that a weekend of scotch and cigarettes would put him in a better frame of mind. She would suggest it, but they hadn’t exactly been talking lately. Their late night phone calls were non-existent, their interactions and conversations limited to work. Mac felt the absence more keenly than she was letting on, pasting a bright smile on her face and pretending that she was okay with Will moving on. A lie that no one, including herself, was buying.

Because why did it have to be Nina Howard? Of all the women in New York City, and there were _millions_ , why did Will have to pick Nina Fucking Howard? Just thinking about it made Mac’s insides ache and she would feel an overwhelming desire to sink to her knees and weep.

Whatever this was with Nina Howard, it was more serious than his usual flings. It was, God help them all, a relationship. His midnight phone calls to MacKenzie had stopped cold. His demeanor towards her at work was polite, but distant. She felt lonelier than she had in ages, and worse, more than anything, lately she had felt foolish. What was she doing? Pining after a man who didn’t love her anymore. She suddenly saw with a startling clarity what everyone else had undoubtedly seen, she was pathetic. He wasn’t coming back. Brian had been right. It had been years. Will wasn’t hers, he hadn’t been for years, and he wouldn’t ever be again.

She was wasting her time.

* * *

 The thing about Will was that, for all of his faults, he was fairly self-aware.

He knew that he had been a particularly big prick that past week, and he knew that he was mostly taking it out on MacKenzie, who he also knew, didn’t deserve his wrath. He knew all of this, but he couldn’t stop himself.

He also knew that she was taking his relationship with Nina hard (although he wouldn’t call it a relationship, this thing with Nina Howard. He wasn’t sure what he would call it, but he wasn’t ready to put that kind of label on it). Will also knew that Mac thought that she was doing a good job hiding it, but he had spent years trying to learn everything there was to learn about MacKenzie McHale, and, despite trying very hard to, he hadn’t forgotten any of it. There were new things, of course, the woman who had appeared in the newsroom with a bag on her shoulder and a tentative smile on her face a couple of years ago wasn’t the same woman who had broken his heart and fled, leaving a path of destruction behind her. He couldn’t put his finger on what exactly about her had changed (if he was to be totally honest, it was probably a thousand little things that had changed, adding up to something close but not quite the same), but the truth of the matter was that she _had_ changed.

But there were some constants that probably would never change. The way that she worried her bottom lip between her teeth when she was trying hard not to cry. And how she would fold her arms protectively over her chest when she was feeling particularly vulnerable, which seemed to happen all the time lately (something he had a feeling was directly related to _him_ ).

MacKenzie was hurting. And it was his fault. And just. Fuck.

After the broadcast, he hurried to her office to try to catch her before she left for the weekend. Will had no idea what he was going to say, but he didn’t like the idea of this uneasy feeling being left between them until Monday. He managed to get there just as she was leaving her office. He caught the ghost of a resigned look sweep across her face before she schooled her features into a more neutral expression.

“Yes, Will?” Her tone was flat and she looked exhausted.

“I just…” he shrugged. “I’m sorry I was an asshole this week.” She nodded.

“It’s fine,” she replied, almost by instinct. It wasn’t fine, though, he wasn’t sure what it was, but it _wasn’_ t fine.

“No, it’s not,” he argued, and she sighed, her fingers going up to pinch her nose (something he knew she did when she was starting to get a headache, and back before, when he belonged to her and she to him, he would run his fingers through her hair and massage her scalp, and it always seemed to make her feel better. And his fingers itched to touch her, and he made himself push Before out of his head, because thinking about it didn’t do anything but make him angry and sad in equal turns, and this was not the time or the place to start wallowing in the bitter melancholy that those feelings stirred up).

“Will, I’m really fucking tired, okay? I just want to go home and pour myself a drink and forget all about today,” she told him. She began to push past him, and he panicked.

“I have pot,” he blurted out suddenly. She paused, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Okay? Good for you?”

It was Will’s turn to sigh, “No, what I meant is, if you wanted to, I know that you don’t smoke very often, but I mean, nothing takes the edge off like getting good and fucking high.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll pass,” Mac said, trying to get around him again.

“With me,” Will added. “In case that wasn’t clear, I meant smoke pot with me.” He felt like an idiot, and he was sure that Mac was going to turn him down, but to his surprise he could see that she was considering it. “Come on, it’ll make you feel better.”

“Okay,” Mac nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

“Great,” Will smiled. “Let me just grab my things, okay?” She nodded again, and he turned to go back to his office, spinning on his heels to face her one more time. “Don’t leave, Mac. Just. I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be here,” she assured him. “Go get your things.”

* * *

 Mac wasn’t sure what the hell she was doing. She was a masochist, there was just no other explanation for why she was sitting in her office waiting for Will to come back so they could go back to his apartment and get high.

She didn’t smoke pot very much. She particularly didn’t like to smoke it when she was alone. It had a habit of making her feel even sorrier for herself than she usually did, especially when she was by herself. But she couldn’t deny how nice it sounded to empty her mind for a few hours. Will had been right, nothing did take the edge off like pot did. She wasn’t going to say yes until the word yes had tumbled out of her mouth.

Will came back to get her in record time, and as they made their way to the car that was waiting for him, she had to swallow back _“Where’s Nina tonight?”_ more than one time. For the moment, there was a tentative peace between them and nothing would wreck that faster than bringing up Nina Howard.

They didn’t say much during the ride back to Will’s apartment; Mac half debated asking the driver to take her home instead for most of the drive, until finally it was too late, they were in his building, in his elevator.

“Want a change of clothes?” Will asked as he shrugged out of his coat.

“As long as they aren’t Nina’s,” Mac said automatically and then cringed. “I didn’t…”

“They aren’t Nina’s,” Will’s voice was flat. “I’ll be right back.” Mac took off her coat and draped it on one of his chairs and set her bag next to it. For not the first or last time she wondered what in the hell she was doing, but before she could grab her things and make a beeline for the door, Will reappeared with his arms full of clothes.

“Will, I…” she started.

“Bathroom’s back there, in case you forgot,” Will interrupted, and she took his offering and retreated to the bathroom.

She slid out of her skirt, letting it pool on the floor and reached for the sweatpants that Will had brought out, only realizing once they were halfway on that they were her sweatpants. The long-sleeved t-shirt, as she grabbed for it, was also hers. She ran her fingers across the words _Cambridge University_ and swallowed hard around the lump in her throat. Mac changed quickly and then stepped out into the living room.

“I wondered where these had gone,” she tried for light-hearted, but her voice cracked. (She wouldn’t let herself think too hard about what that meant. That he kept her clothes. She wasn’t sure if she could, at that moment, handle the answer to that question, whatever it may be).

“Yeah, uh, I kept meaning to give them back to you,” Will said. “I found them when I was cleaning things out.” She opened her mouth to say something when Will beat her to it, changing the subject and sweeping the moment quickly under the rug, “Do you want your ganja in cookie form or in traditional form? I highly suggest the cookies. In addition to being fucking strong, they are also delicious.”

Mac shrugged, “Whichever,” and Will slid a plate with a couple of cookies across the counter towards her. She took a hesitant bite.

“Pretty good, right?” Will said around the crumbs in his mouth. He gave her a crooked smile, and she wondered, again, just what in the hell she was thinking being there

* * *

It was, he reflected, a good thing that he had moved apartments since they had broken up.

If it had been the same apartment, the same couch, the same clothes MacKenzie used to crawl into after a long day, he might not have been able to handle it. She curled up her feet under her like she always had, tucking the ends of the sweatshirt around her hands as she slowly ate the cookie.

“Your place is quite nice,” she spoke up.

“You’ve seen it before,” he replied.

“Only twice,” she argued. “And once was the party, and the other…” her voice trailed off. The other, he remembered, was when she came tearing through with Lonny and the doorman and found him bloody and still on his bathroom floor. They hadn’t ever really talked about that, beyond him thanking her in the car from the hospital back to the office. Mac had waved away his gratitude, and that had been that.

“Right,” he said.

“A little impersonal, decoration wise,” Mac continued.

“I prefer minimalist,” he shot back, and he got the barest hint of a smile in return.

“That’s one word,” she shrugged.

“Clean lines!” He exclaimed. “There’s nothing wrong with clean lines!”

“Uh-huh,” he could see her fighting back a smile.

“Just eat your cookie,” he muttered.

“Thanks for inviting me over,” her voice was soft. “I can already feel the pot taking the edge off, and I hate to smoke pot alone.”

“I know,” Will answered.

“What?”

“I know that you hate to smoke pot alone, you always have. You said it makes you feel sad,” he said, with a small shrug (because maybe if he pretended like it wasn’t a big deal, it might not be a big deal. That he knew these things about her. That he kept her sweatshirt and her sweatpants. That when Shelly Wexler asked him if he had a girlfriend his first thought was MacKenzie not Nina).

Mac didn’t answer right away, instead finishing off the cookie and looking thoughtful.

“Where’s Nina tonight, Will?” Of all the questions he thought she would ask, that was not one of them.

“Excuse me?”

“Your girlfriend, Nina, where is she tonight?”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Will said, the denial was automatic. Mac gave him an unimpressed look.

“What is she then?” she countered.

“She’s...I don’t know,” Will admitted.

“You spend a lot of time with her,” Mac pointed out. He shrugged. “Don’t you?”

“Mac, don’t,” he warned. The pot was giving him a nice, mellow feeling, but even still, he could feel his blood pressure start to rise. The look on Mac’s face could only be described as challenging.

“Why Nina?” The pot must be making her feel bold, he thought, as he took another bite and thought to himself that this might have been a very bad idea, inviting her here.

“Mac, please,” he tried.

“Why Nina?” Mac repeated.

“You cannot possibly think that this is the best time to have this conversation,” Will said, his voice steady.

“I should go,” Mac stood suddenly.

“You’re fucking high as a kite, where are you going to go?” Will exclaimed.

“Home, I’m going to go home. Where I should have gone from the start,” she was moving towards his door now.

“You hate to be alone when you’re high,” Will tried desperately. His head was spinning from both the drugs and from the quick turn the evening had taken. This wasn’t turning out like he thought (and wasn’t that half the problem? He hadn’t really _thought_ about any of it. He had invited her to atone for his sins of the past week. He knew he had been being a real dickhead and she had, for the most part, taken it in stride. They were unbalanced, the scales were tipped in her favor, and he needed to fix that. And because, well, he hated to think of her going alone to pour herself glass after glass of wine to drink away the hurt that he had caused.)

“I’ll be fine,” Mac insisted. She was slipping her feet into her discarded heels and she looked ridiculous, wearing an oversized Cambridge sweatshirt and sweatpants in her towering heels, her arms full of her work clothes. “I’ll get a cab. It’ll be fine.”

“Please stay here,” Will said. “Please. We don’t...we don’t have to talk. I’ll put on a movie and order a pizza.”

“I should go,” Mac repeated, but her voice lacked conviction.

“You don’t have to,” he told her. “Please stay here. You’re in no shape to go anywhere.”

“That shit is strong,” she agreed, and the moment was broken by her dissolving into giggles which seemed to die on her lips as suddenly as they came.

“Stay,” he pressed, and this time she nodded, letting her arms fall down to herself and the bundle of clothes she had been holding tumble onto the floor.

“I’m so tired, Will,” she confessed, and then she took a deep breath. “Why are you dating Nina Howard? Why did you invite me over here tonight?”

“I was a real asshole this week,” he chose to answer the easier question, because he was a coward (he never said he wasn’t).

“So this is to make up for that?” Mac swept out a hand towards his apartment.

“It’s my version of an apology,” Will acknowledged.

“Because God forbid I get to be the bigger person,” MacKenzie muttered, hugging her arms around herself. And he fought the urge to go tug her into his arms (an urge that he seemed to be fighting more and more lately. Even though he had a...whatever Nina was to him).

“That’s not…” But it was. She was right. He needed to invite her over, try to make amends for his shitty behavior the past week, because he couldn’t stand the thought that he might have to cede some of his moral high ground. It was all he had. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry for this week.”

“The pot must have loosened your tongue,” Mac said. “I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve heard you apologize.”

“I’m sorry for that too,” Will added. “I wanted to let you relax a little, and to do that, I knew you’d need someone to keep an eye out for you.”

“I don’t need your protection,” MacKenzie said, her eyes flashing with what he was surprised to see was anger. “Or your pity.”

“That’s not what this is about,” he insisted. He rubbed his forehead, his thoughts fuzzy and his movements disjointed. “Shit, none of this is coming out the way that I wanted it to.” Mac seemed to deflate then, curling in on herself and letting out a sigh that Will felt deep in his bones.

“No, no, I’m sorry,” she shook her head. “You were trying to do something nice, and I’m being a total asshole about it. This is exactly why I don’t like smoking pot by myself. It’s just been a very long week. But I really should get going. Thanks for the cookies. They did take the edge off.”

“Stay here, take the guest room,” Will suggested. Mac’s eyes narrowed, and she tilted her head.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” She asked, and he thought, _no, obviously not_ , but instead of saying that, he shrugged.

“You hate being high and alone,” he insisted. “Stay here. I’ll call you a car in the morning.” She was too high, too tired, to argue, and he knew that, knew that he was going to win this argument, and, sure enough, she shrugged one last time.

“Only if you have a toothbrush,” she wagged a finger at him. “I might be drugged out of my fucking mind right now, but not so much that I don’t realize that my teeth feel like moss.” She giggled again, the drugs causing her mood to fluctuate wildly. “Moss.”

“Come on,” Will offered out a hand and she hesitated before taking it, tugging her to her feet and leading her towards the guest room. He left her perched on the edge of the bed, yawning, and went to root around in his bathroom to search for a spare toothbrush. He found her practically sleeping sitting up, and he cleared his throat. “Toothbrush success.” She gave him a wide smile.

“Thanks, Will,” she said, and wrapped her hand around his for a moment as she took the toothbrush from him.

“Goodnight, Mac,” he turned to leave and stopped just inside the door. “I don’t know what I’m doing, with Nina I mean, I don’t know. That’s the truth. But it’s not...it’s not what you think it is. It’s not as serious as you think it is.”

“Does Nina know that?” MacKenzie asked. “Whatever you’re doing with her, Will, is honestly your business, but I want you to know that I can’t do this very much longer. Wait around for you. It’s not fair to me, or you, or Nina.” She paused. “Fuck, I’m really fucking high.”

“Just wait a little longer,” he could hear the pleading tone in his voice but, like Mac, he was really fucking high. Too high to care. “I know that’s asking a lot, and I’ve already asked a lot, but just...a little longer.”

“A little longer,” she nodded. “I can wait a little longer.” Her gaze softened. “Goodnight, Will.” Dismissed, Will left the guest room and closed the door behind him.

A little longer, she had promised. He wasn’t sure if that gave him enough time to figure his shit out, but he had a feeling, fueled by the kind of clarity only really good fucking pot could give him, that it was more than he deserved.


End file.
